


It's Just That Simple

by CaptainErica



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Demons, M/M, gdyb - Freeform, i don't explain anything I'm almost sorry, weird demoon au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainErica/pseuds/CaptainErica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was 16 when he made the deal that would change his life.<br/>He wasn't really much older than that, in the grand scheme of things, when everything worked out in his favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Just That Simple

Jiyong was sixteen.

At the time it had felt like the _right_ thing to do. Like that thing that he needed to get him to where he wanted to be. It had felt like it was going to be the _one_ thing that rocketed him to the top.

Him and everyone around him.

Him and Youngbae.

Him and Youngbae and the _stupid group_ that he was being forced to be a part of.

“I can _give_ you fame and fortune.” The sleekly dressed young (old?) man said, a faint hiss on the edges of his words. It was tempting. It was sorely tempting, and Jiyong was just _so tired_ that this sounded like a blessing; like a godsend. “I can give you the talent necessary to make your dreams come true…” The sentence trailed off, but this time Jiyong wasn’t quite so convinced.

He was young and cocky, yes, but he knew his worth. No, Jiyong hadn’t needed _more talent_. What Jiyong had needed was something else. What _Bigbang_ had needed was something else. He started to shake his head, and the demon (because that was indeed what he was) was smart enough to know when to backpedal.

Jiyong may have been sixteen, but the demon hadn’t done his homework. Desperation makes one willing to do a lot for what you want; but Jiyong wasn’t desperate so much as tired. If the demon had found him a couple years earlier, however…

***

“It’s green; I hate green.” Seungri says. His mouth is in a full pout and if Jiyong hadn’t been three triple espresso shots into the evening, he would have made a cooing sound instead of the choked sound of impatience that tore from his throat.

“I think what Seungri meant,” Daesung says, his eyes moving warily from Jiyong’s clearly strained face to Seungri’s angry pout. “Is that it’s not quite what he’d been expecting. And you have to admit, Jiyong…we’d all been expecting something a little less…”

“Green.” Seunghyun supplies with very little affect. Before Jiyong can say something biting, a hand lands on his hunched back, and his mouth (opened for a scream of rage, no doubt) relaxes into a frown.

“We are all a little disappointed in the color scheme. But we also _all are aware_ that there is only so much that we can do about it at midnight on a Friday night.” Youngbae says. He’s behind Jiyong, his hand still resting heavy and hot against his rigid back. “I think it might be a good idea for us to call this week a wrap.” He starts, and when he feels Jiyong start to protest (body shifting in alarm at the proposition of _not working_ ), he decides to add: “We have nothing scheduled until next Wednesday. Let’s meet Monday at 2:00.”

A wheeze of disagreement works its way through Jiyong’s throat and out his mouth, but Daesung has turned his bright, smiling eyes on Youngbae as if he actually _were_ the very thing his stage name suggested. “That sounds like a great idea. It’ll be good for us to rest on this.” He says.

Seungri, Jiyong notes, visibly relaxes at the suggestions, and nods sullenly. The action makes Youngbae reach out and ruffle the younger man’s hair affectionately. “Alright, alright.” Seungri says, before turning his gaze back to the (mostly) silent Jiyong. “I’m sorry about what I said.” He mutters, and Jiyong relaxes just a little bit more. Just enough to nod in acceptance.

“Now that that’s settled.” Seunghyun says with jovial finality. You’d think he’d been waiting all week to get out of there, when he’d really only been in the studio for less than half the amount of time that the others had been. “Who wants to go get some chicken and beer?” This suggestion is met with loud cheers.

“Only if you’re paying.” Seungri says brightly, which earns him an affectionate cuff to the head.

Jiyong stops paying attention for a minute while everyone around him gets up and moves around. He’s brought back to earth by the realization that while he’s moved himself into a much more comfortable position, Youngbae’s hand is still touching him; it’s on his shoulder now.

“Put your claws away.” Youngbae says softly, once he’s sure that Jiyong is paying attention to him. He drops his hand away from Jiyong’s shoulder after he says it, and Jiyong pretends that he didn’t pout at the loss of contact.

“I haven’t got claws.” He mutters grudgingly, to which Youngbae laughs.

“You were practically transforming into a hell-beast right before my eyes.” It’s not said very seriously, but the comment still hits Jiyong where it hurts. He winces hard and looks down to the side. Youngbae doesn’t seem to notice, though, for which Jiyong is both grateful and horribly upset.

“Aren’t you going for chicken?” Jiyong asks, trying to push past the jittery anxiety that was pulling at his tired body.

Youngbae looks away from the ugly green packaging on the table and his eyes catch Jiyong’s. “What, and leave you here to crash?” He pauses for just long enough that Jiyong wonders if he’s expected to answer, but Youngbae seems to know what Jiyong is going to say, anyway, so he ploughs on. “No, I’m going to get you home to your ridiculous apartment complex that even the president wouldn’t be able to get into. And then I’m going to try and figure out what combination of food and water will stop you from shaking like that.” Youngbae finishes with a nod toward Jiyong. He’d have used his hands, of this Jiyong is certain, if he hadn’t been playing with the fabric draping the CD case.

“I’m not shaking.” Jiyong says, though it’s hard even for him to believe himself.

“Right, well, either way…” Youngbae says, voice trailing off as he goes from sure of himself to awkward in the face of Jiyong’s contrariness.

It hadn’t always been like that. For a while, Jiyong muses after agreeing to let Youngbae bring him home, Youngbae had been the only one who _could_ talk to him. The only one who could make him see reason and who could get him to calm down. But that was before Jiyong had told him about the deal he’d made with a demon at the ripe age of sixteen.

After that, Youngbae had been uncertain. Sometimes Jiyong thought Youngbae was afraid that Jiyong was manipulating him like he could manipulate others. But Jiyong _couldn’t_ manipulate Youngbae, and he really wishes (as he is being forced into his apartment by Youngbae’s strong hands) that he didn’t know that.

Because knowing he couldn’t manipulate Youngbae meant that he’d _tried_ to manipulate Youngbae.

Because that meant that maybe he deserved to have Youngbae think that way about him.

There is a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, rather suddenly, and he blinks a little confusedly before catching himself. He needed to stop being so immersed in himself that he couldn’t read other people. He needed to get control of himself and his _gifts_ so that he wasn’t always on the verge of spiraling out of control.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, and Youngbae sits down beside him.

“It’s been 4 years, Ji…Don’t you think you should be used to yourself by now?” Youngbae asks. Jiyong winces almost imperceptibly, but Youngbae was right; he’d just hoped that this question could wait.

“I’m better.” He says stiffly, and Youngbae leans back, an arm going behind his head as though he needed to cradle it to rest properly.

“A little.” He says, and Jiyong sighs and turns on the couch so that he can look at him. “You don’t randomly disappear and reappear elsewhere anymore.” He suggests, and Jiyong rolls his eyes.

“I have control of that now.” He mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yes, exactly.” Youngbae says, as though that solved everything even though it really didn’t.

“But I need to work harder.” Jiyong says, only a little dejectedly. He drops his eyes away from Youngbae’s. It was like being chided by YG (only slightly more depressing).

“Yes, and no.” Youngbae says, and Jiyong looks back up at him. “Maybe you’re working too hard at it? Maybe what you really need is to just focus on figuring out how each part of you works…” He trails off, and Jiyong doesn’t blame him.

At best, he’d given Youngbae a very rushed and mostly mumbled explanation of his situation. Youngbae was just caring and perceptive enough to pick up on the things he may have left out…but the description had left much to the imagination.

Youngbae lets out a forced breath and sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “Has living separately worked? Are you less afraid that people will notice?”

Jiyong tries to decide on an answer, and settles for raising his hand and tilting it from side to side. “It has cut down on my worry of being caught out, but when we’re busy like this…” He trails off and ends with a frown.

Youngbae bites his lip, clearly deep in thought. “Alright, how about this: we’re all already in and out of the dorm, why don’t we make it a permanent thing. Dorm during promotions and when we’ve got a lot of work. Elsewhere when we’re less busy.” He pauses for a second, knowing that technically that was already the arrangement (Jiyong just kept himself away as much as possible). “You know I’m always around if you need someone.” He adds, and Jiyong nods.

“Yeah, I know.” He mutters, turning around so that he can lay down with his head in Youngbae’s lap. Youngbae lifts up his arms as his friend lays back. “I just need to focus.” He mutters, and Youngbae nods.

Jiyong stops shaking after a little while, and they fall asleep like that.

***

By 24 he was well used to his demon-granted _gifts_. He was himself far more often than he was maddeningly incapable of controlling himself, and he was really enjoying life.

He was well into his own solo promotions for the year; riding on the wave of the success of _Alive_ and his self-control was at an all-time high.

…

…

Unless Youngbae was around.

This wasn’t to say that he wasn’t capable of controlling his powers around Youngbae. Because he could control his powers around anyone and everyone with the kind of bored and artful grace that was at once naturally him and naturally demonic. But it was a different kind of control that he lacked around Youngbae.

He was careless and harsh and rude when he hung out with his best friend. He pushed Youngbae to break out of his expertly crafted mold and then couldn’t stop himself from being both horrified that he’d done so and terribly gleeful at the thought. During _Alive_ Youngbae had truly come alive; as had all of the members, really, but Youngbae had been the surprise for everyone who knew them.

“Thank you for the song.” Seungri says suddenly, and Jiyong looks up from his notebook to flash the younger man a toothy smile.

“Anything for you, Ri.” He says, and Seungri rolls his eyes dramatically and runs a hand through his hair. Jiyong can’t help the _tch_ of disapproval that escapes his throat at the action. (He should know better than to vocalize distaste around Seungri)

“Right. When’s Bae coming to record?”

Jiyong shrugs, his eyes returning to the paper just as Seungri passes his hand back through his hair. “I dunno, he’s normally in the gym now, isn’t he?” He doesn’t expect Seungri to reply, so he doesn’t mind when he notices that Seungri’s gone back to his phone.

They were all busy now, each of his bandmates in different places doing different things. Jiyong missed them all terribly, but he missed Youngbae the most. It was probably why he’d written the song. He makes a face and scratches out a line he’s just written, hoping that Seungri doesn’t notice and ask him what’s wrong.

Seungri’s album was going to be great, and the song that both he and Youngbae featured on was going to be even better. If the song was really very Youngbae-centric…no one had yet to mention that.

Seungri leaves the studio eventually, which is something that Jiyong envies the ease of whenever it happens. He’s never been able to just leave at the end of the day (there was no end of the day). It is midnight when he looks up from his note-filled notebook and catches Youngbae slowly shutting the door behind him.

“Not quiet enough this time, Bae.” He says, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Youngbae looks up at him as he walks over to the table and allows a grin to cross his own face. “When I opened the door, you looked asleep.” He chuckles lightly, and Jiyong scrunches his nose up in response. “What are you writing now?” He asks as he sits down beside him.

“I don’t know.” Jiyong says, turning back (with reluctance) to the pages before him. “It’s not going well, whatever it is…or isn’t.” Youngbae chuckles softly and then stretches his hands over his head.

“Well, whatever it is, couldn’t it wait until the morning? Especially since it’s not doing so well now.”

Jiyong wants desperately, suddenly, to say yes. But then he pulls back a little bit because he wants to say yes only if it means he’ll get to spend time with Youngbae. Those were the types of thoughts that had been plaguing him on and off for a number of years: they’d just gotten stronger the more in control of himself he’d become. (And the more out of control Youngbae had seemed to become)

“It could.” He hedges after a couple moments of thought, and he’s rewarded with a bright smile and a hard pat on the back (Youngbae could use _less_ time in the gym, really).

“Good. Let’s get some chicken and watch a movie.”

“But my diet…” Jiyong starts, trailing off at the raised eyebrow Youngbae throws at him.

“Your diet? You mean the one where you don’t eat anything but some rice and kimchi and then wash it all down with three gallons of coffee?” He asks, and Jiyong splutters a little indignantly, a hand coming up to his chest.

“I only drink two gallons of coffee, thank you. And I eat kimbap as well.” He adds. Youngbae laughs, his eyes crinkling up in the corners in that way that was _so very_ Youngbae that Jiyong couldn’t help but to laugh along. “Alright, since you’re going to _force_ me.” He says after regaining composure.

Youngbae smiles softly, and uses Jiyong’s shoulder to push himself up out of the chair. “Good, I wasn’t looking forward to carrying you out of here.” He pauses by the door, turning back to watch Jiyong get up and shove his notebook into a cubby. “When was the last time you went outside, anyway?”

Jiyong rolls his eyes and strolls gracefully past Youngbae and to the door. “Who goes outside?” He returns, and Youngbae is suddenly serious.

The change from teasing to serious is so sudden that Jiyong almost flinched. _Almost_. He is always in control now; no one ever sees a reaction unless he wants them to.

“You should.” Youngbae says, his eyes searching Jiyong’s. “You should experience everything…while you can.” The pause would have been odd if he’d been talking to anyone else. But the pause was Youngbae alluding to Jiyong’s _condition_.

He’s mad suddenly. He feels the shift, and he knows that Youngbae can see it (not that Youngbae would ever back down and maybe someday Jiyong should talk to him about that). “You mean before I’m a real demon?” He asks sharply, and Youngbae flinches. “Don’t worry, Bae, I’ll still be able to go outside a hundred years from now. With or without you.”

Youngbae’s eyes harden, and it’s at times like these that Jiyong wishes he could tell where the willingness to deal with him came from. What emotion was leading to this defiant annoyance? Was Youngbae hurt by the words because…..

“Don’t talk to me like that. You’re better than petty attacks like this.” Youngbae says, and Jiyong feels like maybe he’s on a roll and should let the nasty remarks fly; but he also feels like Youngbae is right and his best friend doesn’t deserve a verbal lashing.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and Youngbae nods slowly, moving forward a step or two toward Jiyong and the door. “You know I get angry easily.” He says it slowly, because Youngbae also knows that he’s rarely this acidic with Youngbae unless they’re actually fighting (and then they’re both pretty bad but Jiyong always wins when it comes to awful things to say).

“I know you still need to work on the buttons you choose to push.” Youngbae mutters, grabbing Jiyong’s arm and pulling him through the door.

Jiyong is always a little surprised nowadays when Youngbae shows him this side of him. When Youngbae suddenly brings out this harsh and strong side. It’s always a surprise, but it’s a good one. It’s like when Youngbae walks out of the dressing room in ripped jeans so torn that they’re barely there and a shirt that may as well not be. It’s like when Youngbae doesn’t hold back strength-wise when he and Jiyong are fighting and allows himself to win. It’s like when Youngbae holds Jiyong back, arms tight around his chest in order to pin his arms to his sides, and he doesn’t let go until hours after Jiyong has stopped screaming and struggling.

It’s hot, is what it is. But he can’t tell Youngbae that, because he’s not sure how far Youngbae has come in that way.

(Or if he’s come that way at all)

*******

Youngbae is cold, which is rather abnormal. He’s been cold for around three weeks now and at first he’d believed that all he needed to do was get moving, or get out and do things and it would sort itself out.

It hasn’t sorted itself out.

He’s been dancing for an hour and he knows, objectively, that his body is hot…but it still feels cold and he can’t explain it and he can’t really figure out what to blame. What he does know is that Jiyong is trying to kill them.

“Come on, guys, aren’t you tired of getting everything wrong?” Jiyong asks, and Youngbae feels warmth spread throughout his body at the sound of Jiyong’s voice.

He shakes his head at himself, a strange niggling feeling settling into his stomach (that was the third time that had happened) and gets in position to start the choreography from the top. Jiyong’s on the other side of the room, and that was really the reason the choreography was off (but he wasn’t going to tell him that because he wouldn’t give Jiyong the satisfaction).

They’d been ‘fighting’ for two weeks now.

If you ask Jiyong, he’ll say it’s been three weeks, but Youngbae still isn’t sure what he did to make Jiyong so upset with him (so he’ll stick with two weeks because that’s when they fought). They haven’t spoken directly to each other since then, and today Jiyong has decided to ruin dance practice in order to show his disdain.

He’d snap at Jiyong normally to get into position and stop being a fool.

But he’s right (this time), and he won’t let Jiyong have the satisfaction of thinking he’s won. He knows Jiyong well enough to know that they’re reaching his limit of frostiness: he’ll come around.

It’s three hours later and Youngbae is disgustingly sweaty but still feeling cold (and you know, it’s probably Jiyong doing it, the cheater), and Jiyong has him cornered but he hasn’t noticed yet.

“You’re such an idiot.” Jiyong hisses at him, and Youngbae looks up from tying his shoes to blink owlishly at his best friend. “I can’t believe you’d just let me do that the whole time just because you’re mad at me.”

Youngbae closes his eyes slowly and shakes his head. He still feels cold. The warmth from hearing Jiyong’s voice isn’t enough and he wants to tell the jerk to lay off and pull back, but he isn’t sure Jiyong even knows he’s doing it. “I’m not going to stop you from doing what you want to do.” He says after a few seconds, and Jiyong lets out a hiss of anger and pain. “I needed the work out. I’ve been feeling a little cold lately.”

Jiyong’s harsh demeanor melts instantly at the simple words. He reaches forward and places one hand on Youngbae’s shoulder and the other on his cheek. The relieving warmth is almost instantaneous. “I’m sorry.” He mutters, and Youngbae manages a smile despite suddenly feeling content and drowsy: being cold took a lot out of you.

“I know, Ji, me too.” He says, and he wonders if maybe they should talk about what the fight had really been about and maybe have a side conversation about not using any of his freaky side powers to punish people.

He decides to wait, though, because for the most part Jiyong doesn’t use the powers he gained from the _deal_. For the most part Jiyong is still Jiyong and he often forgets that he can manipulate anyone and open locks with a snap of his fingers.

Youngbae forgets too. He likes it when he forgets; when he doesn’t have to remember the price Jiyong paid to be able to tell when people were lying to him.

There’s probably more to the whole thing, but Youngbae wants to sleep, and he wonders if Jiyong can carry him or if he’ll leave him in the dance room.

“Get up, you’re heavy.” Jiyong says, lightly but still with an edge of authority.

“Yes mom.” Youngbae responds, just to hear the indignant noise Jiyong makes in return. He forces his eyes open and pushes himself to his feet. “I was kind of hoping you’d carry me. I’m feeling tired.”

“Like anyone could pick you up.” Jiyong mutters, pushing him ahead and out the door.

***

“I’m beat. I’m sorry. I wish I were up to seeing you, but I’m just…tired.” Youngbae says softly. He’s got one heavily ringed hand covering his face, while the other holds his phone to his ear.

Seunghyun raises an eyebrow from beside him, but doesn’t say anything for the moment.

“Yeah, I know. I’m never home, though. I just need…” He trails off, and this time Seunghyun turns to fully watch Youngbae.

The younger man was slumped into his seat with his right hand holding him up against the window while it pressed the phone, hard, into his ear. He drags his left hand down and off his face while Seunghyun watches, and one of his eyes pops open. When he catches Seunghyun staring, he shrugs his shoulder noncommittally, and Seunghyun nods once, turning away.

“You’re right.” He says, and it sounds final. Seunghyun isn’t surprised, though. This kind of conversation had been happening on and off throughout the tour: he’d been waiting for this shoe to drop since Sydney.

Youngbae hangs up without saying goodbye, and he’s still for a moment afterward, as though trying to make up his mind. Once his body seems to relax, Seunghyun uncrosses and recrosses his legs, and turns an expectant stare on him.

“Just ask, don’t expect me to read minds.” He mutters, and a small smile creeps onto Seunghyun’s face.

“Is it really over?” He asks, and Youngbae takes in a deep breath and lets it out before he turns to face him.

“Yeah.” He says, but then he shakes his head. “Yes, it’s over.” He says a little more firmly this time. Seunghyun assesses him for a moment before nodding.

“I’m glad, because you weren’t happy, but I understand that it isn’t an easy thing…” He trails off, and Youngbae lets out a light laugh.

“Don’t worry, I know you all thought it wouldn’t last anyway.” He sounds a little bitter, and Seunghyun fights a sigh.

“All? No, I think Jiyong was the only one who was adamant that it wouldn’t last very long. The rest of us…” He pauses here, and tries to see if that information did anything to change Youngbae’s mood. When Youngbae seems set to just look at him blankly, Seunghyun continues. “The rest of us were more willing to see how serious you wanted to make it. She wasn’t a _bad_ person, Youngbae. You guys just weren’t….” He trails off here, because what he wants to say is ‘you guys weren’t ‘GDYB’ good together’, and he knows that’s a weird thing to say.

Especially since Youngbae has never seemed to realize that that was a thing.

Especially since Youngbae was probably the only person who hadn’t realized that that was a thing.

Youngbae lets out a soft chuckle on a sigh. “We just _weren’t_. I know. I knew it for a while…” He says again and looks out the window. “I just wanted this relationship to work.”

Seunghyun clucks his tongue in sympathy. “Of course you did. Why would you go into a relationship hoping it would fail? That would be stupid.” He wrinkles his nose in distaste, and almost feels bad that his first thought was Seungri with that last statement.

“Well, Jiyong will be happy to know that he was right.” Youngbae says, his eyes still gazing out the window.

“He cares, Youngbae, you of all people know that.” Seunghyun says, worried only slightly by the direction of this conversation. “He’s not going to rub it in your face; he’s your best friend.”

Youngbae nods, and is silent for a moment. “I know he is. I just hate it when he’s right about these things. I want him to be wrong, just once, so that it can work out.”

“Or, maybe have him be right, for once, in your favor?”

Youngbae laughs outright at that. “Right, because Jiyong would _ever_ be genuinely happy with whoever I started dating.”

Seunghyun silently agreed with him, but decided not to voice that opinion outright. “He’s protective, he’ll get over it.” _When you’re dating_ him _that is._

“Unlikely.” Youngbae says, and it’s not said with any malice: it’s just the truth.

“Are you upset enough that I should invite you in for a drink?” Seunghyun asks 20 minutes later as they pull into his driveway.

“No, I really am tired.” He smiles up at Seunghyun as the older man gets ready to get out of the car. “Thanks for the offer though.”

Seunghyun nods, and after he’s out of the car and on his way into his house, he turns to wave. Youngbae waves back, and then settles in deeper to his seat.

By the time he’s made it into his apartment and settled his luggage in his closet where he plans to forget about it and never wash anything inside it, he’s missed 6 calls and 20 or so messages, though it could be more. He flicks idly through the band’s group chat, and decides against adding that he, too, made it home safe. They’d figure it out, and they had all individually texted him anyway. He tells Seunghyun that he’ll be alright and will see him at their next meeting, and ignores Seungri and Jiyong’s texts. He tells Daesung that he made it home alright (which he’s sure gets passed on to Seungri), and ignores his manager.

He’s facing away from the sliding doors that lead to his balcony, plugging in his phone next to the sofa, when he hears a rustling behind him. “What the..?” He mutters, turning around quickly.

“Hey Bae!” Jiyong chirps happily, causing Youngbae to stumble backward in shock.

“Kwon Jiyong don’t _do_ that!” He shouts, his hand clutching his chest.

“Don’t do what?” Jiyong asks, tilting his head to the side, as though it were common occurrence for people to just _appear_ in other people’s houses.

“We’ve talked about you just _popping_ in here!” He says, and Jiyong shrugs.

“You didn’t answer my calls.” He says nonchalantly, lifting up a hand to peer at the nails while he folds his other arm across his chest.

Youngbae doesn’t respond for a moment. His eyes trained on Jiyong. Finally, he can’t take the silence or Jiyong’s nonchalance any longer. “You can _teleport?_ ” He says, and Jiyong looks up at him sharply.

“Not _really…._ ” He says, and waves his right hand in front of him. “Doors just aren’t a problem.” He adds, and Youngbae stares at him, his brain trying to make that understandable.

“Alright, well…” But he doesn’t have anything to say. He’s over the shock (mostly), and now he’s got Jiyong in his living room and he can’t very well kick him out (yes, he very well can).

“I heard you spoke with your girlfriend on the way back from the airport.” Jiyong says, his gaze returning to his nails. “Seunghyun mentioned something.”

Of _course_ Seunghyun mentioned something. He probably mentioned a whole lot of things, and Jiyong was just being coy. Or, of course, it was possible that Seunghyun didn’t mention anything outside of ‘Youngbae talked to his girlfriend in the car’, and Jiyong had a meltdown.

“Yes, well, it’s not unheard of for someone to speak to their significant others after returning from time away…” Youngbae hedges, his mind racing to try and figure out if he wanted to invite Jiyong to sit or if he wanted to beg off and go to bed.

“No, no of course not.” Jiyong says, but then his eyes slant upward and nail Youngbae. There was a mixture of emotions swirling around his best friend’s face: fear, sadness, disappointment, _elation_.

Youngbae is quiet for a moment, trying to place what Jiyong’s _really_ feeling. “We’re done.” He says after a moment, before cursing himself for being unable to hold out longer. He’s not sure why he wanted to wait to tell Jiyong, except that it felt important to not give him the upper hand: Youngbae was hurting and tired and Jiyong was still whip-smart and agile-minded (no matter how many hours he hadn’t slept).

“Oh, Bae.” Jiyong murmurs, his flat mask falling into worried lines and creases. “Come here, why didn’t you just _say_ that?” He opens his arms up and walks forward, beckoning for Youngbae to come closer.

Youngbae obeys, and lets Jiyong wrap his arms around him as he wraps his own around Jiyong’s thin body. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was surprised by the reaction, but it didn’t stop him from enjoying the comfort while it lasted.

Jiyong, while completely supportive and entirely on Youngbae’s side, had been altered rather irreversibly by the years after his deal. His excessive (but deserved) fame hadn’t really helped. He was manipulative almost without trying, and sometimes Youngbae couldn’t tell when he _was_ trying (it had gotten harder with time). Jiyong was charming and friendly and _overbearing_. He was loving but it was with an edge of ‘ _or else_ ’ that had never really been there and that was really hard to explain.

He was almost _worse_ with Youngbae, and it was probably because Youngbae was the only one who knew the truth.

For a while, he had wondered if Jiyong was just as manipulative and slippery with him as he was with most other people (he wasn’t always like that…Youngbae could just tell when it was happening now). However, one particularly drunk and honest evening, Jiyong had informed him with a very sloppy hand wave that almost knocked the drink from his hand, that he _couldn’t_ manipulate Youngbae. That Youngbae wasn’t susceptible to his _powers_ and that he’d _tried_ and whenever he thought about it he felt _awful._

“Are you going to see her again to settle it in person or is it just…over?” Jiyong asks after a short while. He pushes Youngbae gently back and down onto the sofa.

“I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it.” He says, his forehead creasing in worry. “Should I?” He asks, turning his face up to see Jiyong’s face.

Jiyong was biting his lip and he shrugs after a short moment. “I don’t know. It feels like something you would do.”

Youngbae takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He was right, of course, it felt wrong to him that they had ended things over the phone and because of a very silly argument. But the truth was that their relationship had been falling apart for months, and that phone call had been more of a last ditch effort than anything else.

“We’ve been done for months. I don’t remember the last time we actually saw each other for longer than just a few hours.” He looks down for a second before peering back up at Jiyong to see his reaction.

He was still biting his lip, and he seemed torn between two emotions that Youngbae couldn’t really identify. He seems to give up after a moment and with a sigh he sinks down beside Youngbae on the sofa.

“Have you thought that maybe all you need to do is see her again, for real, for the relationship to be brought back to life?”

He was being legitimately helpful, and Youngbae was happy that instead of some snarky reply, Jiyong had opted for actual comfort. It also made Youngbae think that this meant that the relationship had actually not been as bad as Jiyong liked to pretend it was.

“Not really, no.” He says with a shrug, and Jiyong nods, his eyes trained on Youngbae. He seemed nervous suddenly, like he was anxious and hopeful all at the same time, and Youngbae found it just a bit odd.

“Well,” He says after gathering himself, and Youngbae can practically _see_ Jiyong pull all of the edges of his control up and over his face. “You should probably sleep on it. You’re tired, I’m tired. The world is probably tired.”

Youngbae laughs lightly, and then heaves a sigh before standing up. “Alright, come on.” He mutters, grabbing Jiyong’s arm and hauling him up. “Let’s go to bed.”

He’s facing the hallway so he doesn’t see the flicker of hope followed by shame that races across Jiyong’s face at the proposition. He doesn’t see Jiyong roll his eyes at himself and square his shoulders. He doesn’t see Jiyong bite his lip again, worrying it between his teeth as his eyes fall into a soft look of worry as he pads down the hall after his best friend.

***

“I thought we’d talked about this?” Youngbae groans, disentangling himself from the sheets of his bed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jiyong replies, his head coming into view in the doorway.

“How’d you get in here?” Youngbae asks, his voice a little rough from sleep.

“The door.” Jiyong says, his full body coming into view as he steps into the doorway.

Youngbae levels him with a flat look and then raises an eyebrow.

“The sliding door.” He amends, and Youngbae takes in a deep breath but Jiyong beats him to it. “When you didn’t answer I knocked on your neighbor’s door and used their balcony to get to yours.” He leans forward conspiratorially and Youngbae finds himself leaning in as well. “You should really think about locking your sliding door. It’s not hard to go from your neighbor’s balcony to here.” When he’s done imparting his advice, he rocks back on his heels.

Youngbae considers staying angry. He really does consider it. But he’s tired, and Jiyong was being cute and frustrating…So instead he just sighs. “Come on, then. I’m going back to bed.”

Jiyong’s face lights up and he follows Youngbae the short (extremely short) distance back to the bed.

“Being a little forward tonight, aren’t you Bae?” He asks, and Youngbae allows a small laugh to fall from his lips.

“Get in or go home.” He says, crawling back between the covers. Jiyong grins widely and slips his shirt over his head before sliding in beside him.

“You know,” Jiyong starts softly a few moments later. “I’ve always dreamed of this.”

Youngbae, already half way back to sleep, doesn’t open his eyes. “Dreamed of what, Ji?” He asks. He’s facing Jiyong, and he can tell that Jiyong is facing him (and just a little _too close_ ) by the feel of his breath on his face.

“You: sleeping. Me: watching.” He says.

Youngbae chuckles, it sounds blocked by his drowsiness. “Are you sure those were dreams, Ji?” He mutters, and Jiyong lets out a breathy laugh.

Jiyong reaches out tentatively. He is lying on his side facing Youngbae. He is closer than he should be, or closer than he would allow himself were Youngbae looking at him. As it is, Youngbae’s eyes are closed and his breathing is even and peaceful. He’s almost sorry that he woke his friend up, except that he’d finally gotten up the required courage to have this conversation with Youngbae, so he isn’t going to let the moment pass.

“Bae?” He asks, and Youngbae grunts in response. Jiyong takes that as a proper response and gently begins to trace his fingers down Youngbae’s bare shoulder and arm. “Have you ever dreamed of me?”

“I’m dreaming of you right now.” He mutters, only a little annoyed sounding. Jiyong smiles brightly.

“Oh no, I can promise you I’m _very_ real right now.” He responds, his fingers tracing their way back up Youngbae’s arm. When he reaches Youngbae’s shoulder, he hesitates; lifting his hand up higher so that his fingers were barely ghosting along the surface of his skin. Then he paused.

Youngbae sighs. “Will I ever get to sleep tonight?” he grumbles before forcing his eyes open.

“Maybe not to _night_.” Jiyong says with a carefree shrug of his shoulder (his hand doesn’t move from its spot hovering above Youngbae’s shoulder). “But you’ll eventually get some rest.”

Youngbae sighs again, but stays still. Jiyong had been momentarily worried that Youngbae would want to drag a hand down his face or something (he’d have had to move his hand then). “What are we talking about?” Youngbae asks, and Jiyong is pleased to note that Youngbae sounds a little more alert.

“Talking about?” He asks, allowing a puzzled frown to cross his face. He averts his eyes to his hand and watches as he ghosts his fingertips over Youngbae’s shoulder and down into the crook of his neck.

“Yes,” Youngbae says, his eyebrows furrowing even has he presses his head a little harder into the pillow (he couldn’t _really_ feel Jiyong’s fingers, but he was vaguely aware it was _happening_ ). “You were talking.” He prompts, and Jiyong smiles.

“I was, yes.” He agrees, and Youngbae scowls. “I was talking about watching you sleep.” He starts again, and Youngbae nods. Jiyong allows his fingers closer to Youngbae’s skin. “I was going to mention how in my dream, you always look so peaceful. So peaceful in your sleep that I can’t help but to reach out—“ he pauses here as his hand has reached Youngbae’s jaw and he’s not sure if he should continue up his face or if he should wait.

It’s dark in the room, but Jiyong can still see, and he sees Youngbae’s eyes change from confused to curious. He sees Youngbae’s mouth drop open just slightly as if he were waiting for Jiyong to do something.

So Jiyong does.

He trails his fingers up Youngbae’s jaw and around to trace his ear. He brings it back to cross over Youngbae’s brows before passing lightly over Youngbae’s eyes (suddenly closed, though his mouth was not). He drags the tips of his fingers lightly down the bridge of Youngbae’s nose and allows one finger to rest on the tip while another falls down and lands on Youngbae’s top lip.

“You usually wake up then.” He says softly, and Youngbae’s eyes open slowly. “And you ask me what I think I’m doing.” Jiyong says on a sigh, lifting his hand to pull it away.

But Youngbae reaches up and grabs it.

…

                …

                                Youngbae stops Jiyong’s hand in mid-air, and presses it back down; palm against cheek.

“Are you sure I don’t ask you how you got in my room?” He asks, his chuckle a little lethargic (but it sends thrills of excitement down Jiyong’s spine).

“I don’t know why you continue to ask. The answer has been the same for quite some time now.” He mutters, his eyes trained on his own hand pressed softly but decidedly against Youngbae’s cheek.

Youngbae smiles, and Jiyong feels his heart thump (demons shouldn’t be able to be in love, should they?) “But you never answer the same.” He says, and Jiyong allows a grin to spread across his face.

“True.”

“If I didn’t ask you what you thought you were doing…what would you do?” His voice was still a little jumbled from sleep, but Jiyong heard him just fine.

He just couldn’t answer.

He couldn’t answer because it was quite possible that Youngbae was totally game for whatever Jiyong wanted to do.

“Would you have pressed your fingers against my lips?” He asks softly, lifting Jiyong’s hand and gently bringing it to his mouth. He presses a kiss against each fingertip, and Jiyong follows the movement hungrily with his eyes.

“Yes.” He says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And what then?” Youngbae asks, and Jiyong feels the breath catch in his throat, because he’d never imagined Youngbae taking control of this situation.

He shakes his head and pulls his hand away. Sitting up quickly he doesn’t give Youngbae enough time to process the change before he’s pulling him up too. “I’d ask if you had been waiting for me, or if _I_ had been waiting for you?”

Youngbae shrugs before tilting his head to the side. “We’ve been together for a long time, Ji.” He says, and a smile is gracing his lips. “I would be lying if I said I knew first….But I catch on quick when it matters.”

Jiyong takes a couple of seconds to let that sink in. “It’s always been there.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press his head against Youngbae’s.

“True.” Youngbae says.

There was a time, not so long before this very moment, when Youngbae would have been red and stuttering and embarrassed. There was a time when, if given the right opportunity (or on the wrong nights when he was too _bad_ to handle himself), he would have capitalized on that and reveled in the embarrassment.

But right now, with Youngbae perfectly willing and perfectly accepting…

                This felt more human.

                                This felt more _real_.

                                                This felt like the _right thing_.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to stare a hole through my head?” Youngbae asks, a smile whispering through his words.

So, Jiyong leans forward and kisses him.

He kisses him lightly, achingly. Like it is everything he’s ever wanted (it is) and like it is the most precious thing he could ever do.

And Youngbae laughs softly, before grabbing the back of Jiyong’s head with both hands and kissing him like it is everything that he’s ever wanted.

Because it _is_.

***

Jiyong will live forever. He’ll live forever and he’ll never get older and he’ll never get younger and he’ll only have himself to blame.

Because _he did it_. He _asked for this to happen_.

“Jiyong?” Youngbae asks.

It’s only a few months later, but it could be years and all Jiyong can think about this morning is the fact that Youngbae _won’t_ live forever. He isn’t focusing on the songs before him or the monitors that he is _actually_ supposed to be watching. He isn’t focusing on the coffee in his hands or the soapy smell of Youngbae’s hair beside him.

He’s thinking about how Youngbae will die and he won’t.

“Jiyong.” Youngbae says, and the finality of the tone makes him look up at him. “The program is over. You can stop pretending to watch.” There’s a smile there, but it’s tentative and Jiyong can see the worry laced throughout it.

“I’m fine.” He says, but Youngbae places a staying hand on his shoulder as Jiyong tries to get up.

“I have a question for you.” He says, and Jiyong wasn’t quite expecting it, so he doesn’t say anything. “Are deals like wishes?” he asks, and Jiyong blinks at him a few times before he understands the meaning of the question.

“You have to speak them.” He says slowly, his eyes slanting to the side to watch Youngbae. “They are contracts. Signed and sealed.”

Youngbae nods. “Then I want to make a deal.” He says firmly. The hairs on the back of Jiyong’s neck stand up and a tingle of anticipation runs through him.

Despite himself, he’s eager. Or maybe, maybe it’s not quite _despite himself_. It’s more likely _because_ he traded away his soul that he feels this way. “What kind of deal?” He asks, and he _sounds_ eager, but also wary, and he wonders if Youngbae thinks that’s weird.

Youngbae looks him up and down, and he enjoys the appraisal. He wonders if he looks _different_ somehow, because that’s what the look on Youngbae’s face is telling him.

“I want…” He pauses and trails off. They’re in the middle of the studio. No one is there, but Youngbae suddenly thinks that this should be said in a much more formal place. His brows knit together. “Where did you make your deal?” He asks, and Jiyong is surprised, because he realizes he’s never told Youngbae that.

“The old dance studio.” He says, the years between then and now stopping the emotion that could have clouded the memory. “You’d left for a shower in the gym.” He adds, and Youngbae nods.

If Jiyong could make such a life-altering deal in the middle of the run down dance studio that they used to sleep in when Youngbae couldn’t go home…then Bigbang’s studio would work just as well.

“I don’t think I can ask for your soul back.” He says, and even though it’s not _really_ a question, Jiyong shakes his head sadly. Youngbae bites his lip and nods. “Alright, then I’d like to give you mine.”

The world suddenly halts; it’s no longer spinning and Jiyong is staring across an endless distance at Youngbae. Youngbae who has just casually offered Jiyong his soul. Youngbae who Jiyong is almost _certain_ he’d do anything for.

“I can’t _take_ your soul, Bae.” He says, choking on the words. He _can_ take Youngbae’s soul, but he can’t use it as his own.

“Sure you can.” Youngbae says. “You can take it, and keep it…and I’ll…I’ll be with you.” He drops his eyes to the ground, his face reddening as though he were suddenly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t be alone.”

Jiyong chokes back a sob, and he finds it entirely too cruel that the world has done this to him. It’s sped back up and he isn’t ready for reality. _Demons can’t love, can they?_ He’d know if he had his soul back. He’d know if he were no longer a demon. This is a cruel torture designed by whoever damned the demons in the first place.

It’s hard to get the words out, so they sound choked and half-formed as they tumble from his mouth. “I can’t. I can’t take it from you. I can’t do that to you.” He says, and Youngbae looks up at him again, a smile deeply ingrained on his face.

He reaches forward and places a hand on Jiyong’s face. “You _can_.” He says softly. “And you will.”

***

Youngbae is the hottest thing that Jiyong has ever seen, bar none.

Youngbae has confidence and swagger and a look in his eyes that could pin you to a wall and flay you _alive_.

Youngbae is sweet and nurturing. He’s kind, gentle, and caring.

Youngbae is a demon, and Jiyong _made him that way._

Jiyong and Youngbae might not have souls, but they _do_ have each other.

                                                                                                For eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ^^ I promise more well-thought out stories in the future ^^


End file.
